


Something Tastes Different

by incognitoinsomniac



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, M/M, Morning Routines, OC Martin Jakes, Parent Endeavour Morse, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Peter Jakes Returns to Oxford, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitoinsomniac/pseuds/incognitoinsomniac
Summary: Morse's morning routine was shaken up quite a bit by Peter's returned from Wyoming some ten years later. He won't complain though. It feels more and more like home every day.
Relationships: Peter Jakes/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Fluffy February 2021





	Something Tastes Different

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a much larger idea but posting it now as a part of the Fluffy February Challenge. I hope you all enjoy ^_^

Morse woke to the smell of bacon and an empty bed. He stretched before rolling out and throwing on some pants. He stumbled into the hallway. He stood there for a moment watching Peter intently shuffle eggs around on a frying pan. He had washed and dressed before Morse even woke. 

Morse would never get used to Peter's early morning routine. He found the bed too enticing to leave before the sun was up. The morning chill crept around him spurring him onward. He padded across the flat to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Peter.

"Morning," he mumbled, still focused on the eggs.

"Morning," Morse replied with a soft kiss in the crook of his neck. He breathed in Peter's cologne as he held him close. They stayed still in each other's arms for a moment. The only movement that of the spatula slowly scrambling eggs over low heat. Then Morse heard the sound of the bacon change a bit. He ran a hand down Peter's arm wrapping his fingers loosely around the spatula. "Let me. The bacon's about to burn."

"Shit!" Peter jumped out from under him, grabbing up plates and tongs from the counter. He pulled the bacon from the heat and dolled them out onto plates. "Where," Peter huffed in frustration, "where did I put the fat jar?"

Morse nodded to the refrigerator. "Top of the fridge."

He retrieved the jar and quickly dumped the hot fat, just as the toast popped up from the toaster. Hurriedly, he returned the jar, found butter, and started buttering toast. Morse swore a vein on Peter's neck almost popped when the kettle began to whistle. 

He struggled to suppress a giggle as he finished up the eggs. "Swap with me," Morse offered as he carried the eggs over to their plates.

"Of course." Peter rushed over to the kettle.

After evenly distributing eggs onto the three plates, Morse discarded the pan in the sink. Then he nudged himself next to Peter who was making tea in an almost manic fashion. Morse ran his hands along his waist once more, resting his chin on his shoulder. "Babe, you've plenty of time. It's only quarter past. And the tea actually has to brew in the water before you remove the bags."

Peter took a deep breath in, lifting Morse up with him. Then he slowly exhaled and leaned into Morse's embrace. "You're right. Of course," he sighed. "I'm just not used to all this."

"Give it time," Morse hummed.

Peter turned to smile at him. "Will do," he assured him then planted a kiss on his lips.

Morse held him fast with an arm around his neck. He laced his fingers into Peter's gelled hair. He couldn't help but smile as he felt Peter tense slightly over getting his hair mussed then melt back into his kiss. He still had morning breath, but Peter didn't seem to mind as their kiss deepened.

"Are you done being gross in there!" rang through the kitchen splitting them apart. Looking a bit sheepish, they both turned to face Martin who stood in his doorway in his too-big pajamas and jet black hair standing every which way. 

Morse struggled once more to suppress a few giggles from bubbling up in his throat as he ran a nervous hand through his own untamed bedhead.

Peter, on the other hand, had a brilliant red blush splashed across his cheeks. He shouted back, "Oi, is that any way to speak to your father." He instinctively straightened the bit of hair Morse had upset.

Martin rolled his eyes with impressive sass for a ten year old. He made his way to the kitchen table as he complained, "Look, Papa. I know you're in love or whatever. But I've got to get to school, and I can't hold down my breakfast while I'm watching you two suck face." 

Peter looked at Morse in astonishment, "He's got a mouth he has."

"No idea where he got it from," Morse grinned as he picked up two plates.

"Not me."

Morse raised his eyebrows unconvinced.

"I never," he protested then muttered under his breath, "little scoundrel."

"Just like his father," Morse replied. He set a plate down in front of Martin. "Here's some breakfast." Then he ruffled his hair as he moved around him to the other side of the table. 

"Thanks, Dad."

Morse froze in his tracks. His gaze snapped to Peter who was the spitting image of a deer in headlights. Morse tried to read him. He didn't know how to respond. Martin had never called him "dad" before. Had Peter told him to? His apparent confusion told Morse probably not. Regardless, his heart raced at the multitude of implications inside that one word.

Martin stopped shoveling eggs in his mouth as he finally registered the awkward tension in the room. He looked up at his father first. "What?" he asked with concern. He looked over at Morse who stood equally silent. "Should I've not," he trailed off apprehensively. It was clear he felt he'd done something very wrong which was far from the truth. It was just extremely unexpected.

Morse sat in the seat next to him and lay a comforting hand on his arm. "If you want, yeah sure. Nothing's wrong. You don't have to though."

"But you're," Martin trailed off once more. He looked back at his father for some sort of guidance. When none came, he focused back on Morse. "You are my dad. I mean you're sticking around with Pa, so you're like my new parent. Right?"

His breakfast all but abandoned, Martin's head was like a swivel flicking back and forth between them searching for any sign of encouragement or disapproval. Morse gave it with a slow nod. "Right."

"Which makes you my dad," he said a bit more confidently. "So can I call you Dad?"

"Yeah," Peter chimed in finally. "Just not outside the house. Like we talked about." 

"I know!" Martin burst out. "It's stupid though."

"Hey, what did I say about that word?" Peter snapped back.

Martin crossed his arms and pouted in his chair as he recited what his father had told him, "That it's a word used by people who aren't intelligent enough to find a better insult."

"Exactly."

He sat up indignantly and rebutted, "Well people who don't like my pa and dad aren't very intelligent, so it seemed appropriate." And with that, he returned to shoveling breakfast into his mouth with wild abandon.

Morse couldn't help but chuckle at his response. He leaned in and said to Martin, "They are pretty stupid." 

He heard a heavy sigh from the kitchen. He looked up to see Peter pinching his brow. 'Would you," Peter chided Morse but stopped abruptly to stare at Martin's now empty plate. He redirected his comment to his son, "chew next time. And go finish getting dressed, please. You'll be late for school at this rate." 

Martin jumped up from his seat and ran back to his room.

Peter's focus redirected to Morse the moment Martin's door closed. "Could you not undermine me please?"

Morse gulped down a mouthful of eggs before speaking, "It's my job. I'm his dad." He grinned up at him.

Peter sighed. He finished making the tea then brought his breakfast over to the table as he explained, "I'm trying to mold an intelligent thoughtful child. Better than I was. Maybe go to university. Have the chances I didn't."

"I went to university. See where that got me."

Peter took a long swig of tea. Then he said with consideration, "Well, to be fair, you're pretty stupid."

Morse chuckled, "Yeah, all right. Got me there."

They ate in comfortable silence until Peter spoke up once more, still sounding a bit surprised, "Dad."

"Pa," Morse replied with a smile. He suspected he wouldn't be entirely able to frown all day. Then he took a bite of his toast and frowned.

"What?" Peter inquired.

"This one hasn't got any butter."

"What!" He would have jumped out of his seat if Morse hadn't held him fast from running into the kitchen.

"It's alright. I'll go without for today." He kissed him to settle any further protests. 

Peter settled back in his seat as he returned his kiss. Morse couldn't get over kissing Peter just any odd time he felt like. At home at least. But it was more than they'd had in a past life. 

"Agh! Gross! Again!" Martin shouted in agony from his doorway.

Peter stood up from the table. "Alright. Let's go. Off to school with you." Martin obliged heading to the door and grabbing his bookbag.

"See you at work," said Morse.

"See ya." Peter squeezed his shoulder then kissed the top of his head. He followed Martin out of the flat leaving Morse to an empty apartment.

He never minded it. But it felt distinctly more silent this morning. He finished his breakfast, did the dishes, then got ready for work. This was definitely a routine he could get used to. Life was complicated. Especially now. But mornings were simple. He could wake to this every day and die a happy man. 


End file.
